


The Way Home

by Dexidoodle



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, I Don't Give Warnings, good luck, shit happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 17:04:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17532746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dexidoodle/pseuds/Dexidoodle
Summary: In the Aftermath of Helgen, Ulfric Escapes Back to WindhelmOne Shot, Unbeta'd (All mistakes are mine.. and I claim them wholeheartedly.)





	The Way Home

Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm and leader of the Stormcloak rebellion against the empire, was not entirely pleased with the turn of events that found him bound, gagged and interned in the back of a rickety wagon with an unkempt horse thief and the head of his personal security detail. It was deeply mortifying to be bought so low by a bunch of boyish Imperial legionnaires.

He knew though, as the cart jolted uncomfortably on its way down a steep cobbled road to Helgen, that he was finally going to his death at the block. Weather justified, as some believed... or not, as others did.

The Divines were such fickle creatures… their ways were ever the mystery, even to one as exalted as a Jarl. He contemplated his impending fate in silence as he cast his eye over the tableau around him.

In the cart ahead were four of his personal guard, resplendent in their dusty blue cuirass of Windhelm. They were downcast but still brave and hardy men and women. Ralof sat diagonally across from him. His face despondent and guilt ridden for being unable to protect his Jarl from the Legion horde that had taken them by surprise at Darkwater Crossing, leaping from the behind rocks and trees like the vile cowards that they were. The horse thief, now slumped across from him, had simply chosen the wrong horse at the wrong time. Ulfric snorted, he was sure no one would mourn the braggarts passing.

Ulfric was somewhat pleased that he would meet in end in his homeland rather than be taken to far off Cyrodiil to be paraded before the emperor and his court before they separated his head from his body and mounted it on a pike at the wall of the Imperial City. It was a small kindness he supposed absently as the cart rumbled along the rutted roadway.

There was a call from the front of the wagon train and the whole group stopped in the road. Ulfric was pulled from his quiet reverie and with his keen azure eyes, caught the movement way up in the front of the convoy by General Tullius' horse. Moments later, a pair of legion guards marched back towards the carts, dragging an unconscious form between them. The captive was in rags and their long filthy hair hung over their face. The guards were not a part of this contingent, Ulfric had not seen them before and he had studied each face of his captors with diligent care, burning each individual into his memory. They must have been from one of the many wandering patrols that had haunted Skyrims roads in recent years, like malevolent spirits.

The Legionaries paused by Ulfrics cart and carelessly tossed their captive over the side, where she… definitely a she, landed with a heavy thud next to him. He breathed a huffing sigh through his nose; another dirty criminal he thought with an inward sneer and unceremoniously tossed aboard to be seated next to a Jarl no less. The two legionnaires stomped away back up the road again without a backwards glance, leaving the highly reeking wretch where she fell.

She had landed sitting upright but leaning to one side, her head lolling about on the end of her neck. She was covered with a thick sheen of muck, making her features hard to discern and her hair was tangled with old bits of grass, rotting food and gods knows what else. Her thread bare, dun coloured tunic fell in lumpy discord around her torso, if it had not pulled tight as she fell, the swell of her breasts would have been hidden and she would have been taken for a boy. Her tattered leggings were stained with blood and her hands were bound in front of her with thick rope, just like the rest of them. She was bare foot too and filth squelched from in between her blackened toes.

Ulfric wasted no more time regarding the dirty woman. She was probably just another thief, he thought with an internal scoff as he turned away.

The cart resumed its bumpy journey downward to Helgen village without further delay. Ulfric silently eyeballed the young legion guard who was trailing behind their cart on horseback. He knew his glare was making the young Nord in telltale red very nervous indeed, though he was trying valiantly to hide it. Ralof had known him… had called him Hadvar, with a scathing taint of betrayal in his tone.

And so it went on for the next few minutes. Jarring bumps and silent contemplation.

The sound of Ralofs voice roused the Jarl once more and bought his eye back to the interior of their cart.

"So, you're awake, then?" Ralof had murmured.

The womans head was up and her eyes flicked furiously around, taking in her new situation… and by the Gods, what eyes she had. They flashed with a pale green fire as she regarded her captors and her fellow prisoners with undisguised and equal hostility, one at a time, taking each of their measures. Her dizzying orbs lingered on the Jarl for a beat longer than all of the others. Ralof was speaking to her, but she paid him no heed, looking instead at the cart in front and at each of the Legion soldiers surrounding them. There was no fear in her eyes, no concern nor misery, nothing but a blinding fury. She was really pissed off.

The legionnaire driving their cart got tired of Ralofs droning voice as he tried to make conversation with the woman and then the cowardly horse thief when he'd garnered no response from her. Ralof tended to natter on when he was nervous, the Jarl had noted it before now.

"Quiet back there." The Imperial soldier snapped haughtily from his seat before them, not even bothering to look back at them.

The woman stood calmly from her seat on the bench in the cart and aimed a powerful kick to the side of the drivers head. She wrenched his sword from its scabbard as he fell sideways in a daze and leaped over the edge of the cart, landing almost gracefully on the rutted roadside. She scampered into the undergrowth that lined the roadway with the speed of a rabbit being pursued by a whole pack of wolves, all the while carving at the bindings at her wrists with her pilfered Imperial sword.

There was an outcry from the guards and some of the legion soldiers gave chase while the others formed up around the remaining prisoners who all blinked in surprise at the shocking turn of events.

It had all happened so fast, one minute she was there, the next gone. It had to be the fastest capture and escape in history, taking into account the time she was unconscious, that is.

The Stormcloak prisoners waited tensely in their bonds for word of the runaway. They waited breathlessly, some praying to Talos that the woman had made good on her tenacious escape and would not be dragged kicking and screaming back into the fold. The remaining guards checked each of the prisoners, tightening their bindings and fastening them together and attaching them to the carts to ensure another such escape did not occur.

Eventually, the pursuant legionnaires emerged sheepishly from the forest of Falkreath empty handed and a brief cheer rose up from the captives, quickly quelled by their captors. 'Talos be with you, girl.' Ulfric thought to himself, his spirits buoyed by the audacious and swift escape.

The wagons formed up again and Tullius ordered them forward. The journey to the block continued as if she had never even been there at all.

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All eyes turned to watch the procession as Ulfric Stormcloak and his personal guard rumbled into Helgen village, some voices raised to jeer at them or to express support of the Imperial Legion as they passed. The Jarl ignored them all as Tullius had stopped by the gate to greet a delegation of Thalmor, obtrusively swathed in their garish robes and flashy burnished armour. Ulfric wanted to spit in their direction but the gag prevented anything but a heated glower. He poured all of his vitriol into that stare, every ounce of his hatred for the self-important elves.

The Stormcloaks and their Jarl were ejected from their carts in front of the tower in the main square and Tullius deigned to give some sort of speech or other… it made no difference and Ulfric gave him no credence. He watched as one of his bravest souls strode to the block and took his path to Sovngarde on his own terms. Ulfric sent a prayer to the divines for the man, hot headed in life and surely, the mead hall of Shor would welcome such a fine brawler into their midst with open arms.

The next prisoner was called… the horse thief. He had tried to run when they had dismounted the cart but had been hauled back by the grim soldiers. He struggled and fought as he went to the block, praying to each of the Divines by name and begging for his life. The coward.

As he struggled piteously with the soldiers attempting to drag him to the block, his pleas were quieted with the swift application of a rag into his mouth. With him now silent, the strange sounds that had permeated the air for some time, dragging away the attention of the sentries and even halting proceedings a few times with their puzzling cadence, became more pronounced. None had paid those noises much notice until a sudden deafening roar shattered the stillness of the woods and mountains surrounding Helgen.

A roar that should not have been. For no beast should have been able to make that sound except one and they were long gone for an age.

What happened next was forever seared into the memories of those who would survive that day.

A Dragon… A DRAGON!

The whole town was suddenly plunged into chaos. It seemed as if the darkest reaches of Oblivion had spewed forth into the small village of Helgen and smothered it in horror. The sky darkened as unnatural, swirling clouds blotted out the sun and fire and brimstone began to rain down in deadly sheets. The Dragon itself, as black as the void and with eyes that scorched like ruby fire, landed with an earth shuddering crash atop the tower and shouted, its thu'um sending the little mortals below tumbling about like brittle leaves in a fierce gale. Ulfric found himself dazed and laying upon his back, he could feel the warmth of blood pooling on the back of his head where it had struck the solid stones of the cobbled street. One of his men was at his side in a moment, helping him to his feet and dragged him, stumbling towards the old stone fort.

The Jarl shook his head to clear his jumbled thoughts and the ringing in his ears from the onslaught outside as the thick oak door slammed shut. His bindings were cut and he reached up to remove the gag that held him mute for so long. Ralof stood before him, his eyes wide and wild.

"Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?" His voice was tinged with hysteria as he sought peace of mind from his steadfast leader.

"Legends don't burn down villages." The Jarl said grimly holding the eye of his subordinate. And there was the reality, a dragon was attacking Helgen and in that attack came their freedom. Now, what were they to do with it?

"We need to move. Now!" Ulfric ordered sharply. "Up the stairs. Quickly."

He rallied his people and ushered then further up the tower. He watched the last move past the first landing, when the tower wall burst inwards The Jarl was thrown back, his shoulder meeting stone and crunching under the impact. A rush of hot dragon flame filled the stairway and Ulfric turned from it covering his face as wave after wave of blistering heat sizzled through the air. The dragon retreated once more and Ulfric was alone, his people gone, not taken or killed but escaped and scattered as the dragon raged. He once again offered a prayer to all of the Divines that they would find their way. He. however, would need to find his own.

The way up was blocked, the way down barred to him as well, but there was now a convenient dragon sized hole in the wall facing the roof of a neighbouring building. He doubted the thatch roof would support his weight for long, he would have to brace to hit the floor below it. It was a long drop, but survivable. Without another thought, he threw himself into space, he felt the straw beneath his heavy boots, it slowed his descent but as he'd guessed, did not stop it. The thatch caved and he fell an extra few feet to the wooden floor inside the building (an Inn, it seemed), catching his already tender arm on the edge of a dresser and feeling the bone snap with the impact. He gasped and clutched the appendage to him on instinct.

He released it in disgust with himself, he had bigger problems.

He needed to get out of the town as quickly as possible and meet up with his men. The legion was distracted by the Dragon. He should be able to slip out if he moved quickly and kept to shelter. He dared not use his voice himself, he had no idea if the monster that was currently belching flames into the guard house, would hear it and target him. Trying to ignore the fearsome dragon in the sky, Ulfric pounded down the stairs of the empty and smouldering Inn and rushed out of the door and into the Oblivion that, up until minutes ago, was the prosperous and pretty town of Helgen.

He kept to the walls and overhangs of the buildings, the Legionnaires were indeed too distracted to take notice of one Jarl, taking his leave of the beleaguered town. Though he too was distracted briefly as he dragged a little girl into the shelter of a large pile of debris and out of the path of another burst of dragon flame. He checked over the wide eyed and tearful waif to make sure she was unharmed and then pulled her along with him. Even he would not leave a child to fend for themselves in the face of a dragon attack.

He found the gate manned by a solitary and fearful Legionnaire, the two locked eyes for a moment. The boy, for he was indeed very young, looked the Jarl up and down, looked to the soot covered little girl at his side and then back at the Jarl. Ulfric willed the boy to let it go, to let him pass unchallenged but the boy set his jaw and slowly drew his sword.

"Don't be foolish, boy." Ulfric growled, shoving the girl at him, "Care for the child and let me pass."

"I can't" The boy all but sobbed, lifting his sword resolutely.

"Do as he says, let him pass." Another voice intruded in on the din of battle and the tense standoff at the gate. A feminine voice that was accompanied by the tip of a sword, pointing at the young soldiers exposed neck.

Ulfric let his eyes follow the length of the blade to the face of the one that wielded it and he gaped at her in surprise. It was the woman from the cart.

She stood close against the wall, the stolen Imperial sword levelled at the young legionnaires throat, her eyes still held that angry fire, though it was dampened with purpose. She was still in rags, still covered with filth and blood, but she held herself like a proficient swordswoman.

The young soldier eyed her warily and slowly lowered his sword with a gulp.

"Take his sword and follow me." She ordered the Jarl… she ordered the Jarl… and she turned her eyes back to the soldier. "Protect the girl." She snapped at the young man who nodded shakily in reply.

Ulfric took the hastily offered sword and spared the little girl, who was now clinging meekly to the guards waist, a farewell glance before setting after the mysterious woman who led him into the brush and away from the burning town, beset by a monster.

She moved fast, not sparing a look behind her to see if he was following her. He was but he was lagging, his head was foggy from where he had fallen under the dragons voice and his broken arm plagued him. He was stinging from a hundred burns and his shoulder throbbed. But he buried it deep and concentrated on the swift, green eyed fugitive and where he placed his own faltering feet on the uneven ground, clogged with hidden dangers of their own.

They moved steadily uphill from Helgen, taking to the mountains. They looked back once and saw the evil black dragon soaring away to the north, its vast midnight wings casting a shadow on the land below as it passed overhead almost like a foretelling of what was to come. The attack on Helgen was over and what was left was a blazing ruin that would most certainly be overrun by bandits before the cinders were even cold.

Ulfric hoped his soldiers had made it out. He worried for every man and woman who took up the cause but he especially worried for the people who put their lives on the line to protect him personally. They were fine and brave souls and true sons and daughters of Skyrim.

The woman was far ahead of him now but she stopped once to yell rudely at him to hurry up, they needed to get out of sight before the legion could regroup. They may still try and seek to detain him again. He had no idea where she was leading him nor why she chose to assist him at all, unless she recognised him and supported the fight for Skyrims independence from the Empire.

Soon however, she stopped ahead and looked back at him, waiting for him to make it breathlessly to her side.

"You're leaving a path wider than an avalanche" She observed derisively. "It's not far. Make haste"

"Where are you leading me?" He asked his deep voice rumbling tiredly in his chest, he'd had a long day.

"A cave... we can rest up and plan our next moves." She turned from him again and nimbly led the way up a narrow goat track like she had cloven hooves herself. Ulfric sighed and followed at a slower pace. He justified his speed in his head. He was wearing armour and furs… he was bearing injury…

The sun was sinking in the sky and the temperature dropped to match. Ulfric worried about the woman, not truly knowing why. She was only clothed in thin rags and wore no shoes, she would freeze… even the hardiest Nord would freeze in the bitterness of a Skyrim night, especially clothed in such. He trudged on in her wake none the less.

They eventually came to what looked like a solid rock face and he paused in amazement as he watched her walk right through the very mountain. He blinked at the solid bare stone in front of him and started as her voice floated back to him, clear as day, like she was still standing right in front of him.

"It's an enchantment." Her hand emerged from the seemingly unbroachable wall and she wiggled her dirty fingers at him. "Come through."  
Ulfric hesitated a moment more before striding assuredly forwards.

"… And watch your head." She added too late, as Ulfrics forehead struck the low ceiling. "Sorry." She muttered, not really sounding apologetic at all. "You're quite a bit taller than me." She observed as he rubbed his head and glared at her.

"Come." She led the way further into the cave until it opened into a small chamber.

It was an irregular shape but with a flat, well trampled soil floor. There was a pile of sacks against a wall next to a laid-out bedroll. A cold but prepared campfire sat in the centre of the space. The ceiling was much higher in here for which Ulfric and his newly bruised forehead were deeply thankful.

The woman settled herself onto the bedroll, tucking her bare feet into the folds and she set about starting the fire. She did so in silence, gathering tinder and kindling to her as Ulfric hovered by the cave entrance.

"Are you going to sit or what?" She finally asked tersely, not looking up "People who hang around in doorways make me nervous."

"Why did you help me?" He asked, eyeing the woman as she blew on a smouldering ember, gently coaxing the fire to life.

"You seemed important to the Imperials." She answered shortly with a shrug, adding a little kindling to the growing flame. "If helping you irks them, then I'm all for it."

He watched her in silence as she sat back from the now merrily crackling fire, which cast a warm golden glow on the cave and leaned back against the wall with a sigh. She ignored him for as long as she was able, her pale green eyes finally flicking up to him in obvious annoyance.

"Would you please sit down?" She snapped, her voice then lowering to mutter under her breath. "looming in the doorway like a giant bear... Talos preserve me."

He stepped further into the cave and lowered himself to the dirt floor awkwardly, trying to avoid using his damaged arm. He grunted slightly as he bumped it on the way down.

"You're injured." The woman observed instantly, she was up and by his side in a moment, moving faster than he could follow. Her cold fingers gently probed at his arm and she glared at him, her pale green eyes flashing once again. "Why didn't you say anything, you great fool?"

He bristled at that. "We were otherwise occupied with our retreat from the imperial army and a dragon to worry about minor inconveniences." He snapped back, his deep rumbling voice vibrating around the small space.

"A broken arm is not an inconvenience, fool." She huffed, moving away from him and going to crouch by the pile of sacks. She rifled in them noisily, making her way back over a moment later with a cerise coloured bottle clasped in her fist. She shook it under his nose persistently. "Well… drink it." She commanded harshly.

Ulfric eyed the unpleasant woman balefully, taking the potion as if it were an imposition to him. Breaking the wax seal forcefully on it, he chugged back the bitter medicine aggressively and then let the bottle drop to the dirt floor at his side, with as much distain as he could muster.

She watched him with amusement, her eyes sparkling. "Anything else? You got an arrow sticking out of your back too?" she snarked, looking at him closely, now taking note of the dried blood in his hair at his neck. "Shor's bones man." She exclaimed, threading her fingers through his hair, feeling the cut on the back of his head. "Well, you've got a thick skull and a high tolerance for pain, I'll give you that."

Ulfric let her fuss. She went away again and came back with a water skin and a rag. She cleaned away the blood with surprisingly gentle hands, her nimble fingers separating the strands of his hair and unfurling his braids. She ran her fingers lightly through his hair, checking for any remaining trace of detritus and felt the healing cut again, a complete contrast to her angry tone and countenance.

"Is that it?" She asked again, meeting his eyes.

"It is." He replied, not quite honestly but holding her bold gaze. His burns and throbbing shoulder would heal with the potions aid anyway. No need for further fussing.

She eyed him suspiciously for a moment longer, humfphed and moved away from him again, dropping the water skin and rag in the corner and lowering herself back onto the bedroll.

"Are you injured?" Ulfric asked eyeing the blood stains on her tattered trousers.

"No, the blood isn't mine." She smirked, looking up at him through her lank, dirty hair. "One of the legion boys tried to take some liberties with my person whilst I was tied to a tree, I convinced him it was not a good idea. He's dead now." She snorted dismissively but her eyes narrowed at him.

It was not a subtle warning.

Ulfric was amused that she would even think that he would be inclined to take up what the deceased legionnaire would have. She was a lowly thief, and very dirty and disagreeable one at that. No, he was not interested in entertaining that thought at all. For all that he was grateful for her assistance, he had very high standards in that regard.

The woman turned from him and gathered up an old, dented pot and some fixings for a meal (Jarl Ulfric realised suddenly that he was very hungry) and she set about preparing it. She spared him no more of her attention as she used the Imperial sword to cut up some dried meat and dice some vegetables. It gave him a real chance to observe her.

She was a strong Nord woman. Her rags leaving her arms exposed and he admired the slight ripple of her tight biceps as she maneuvered the ungainly sword in the menial task that it was in no way suited for. She was of average height for a Nord woman, standing at about six inches shorter than himself. Her face was lowered over her task, but he noted her high cheekbones and finely cut nose. She had full lips and those eyes were very striking, a pale mossy green that he had never seen the like of before and could compare to nothing else. Her hair was long and most probably blonde; it was too dirty, tangled and clumped to tell the actual colour and it hung in thick gummy swaths about her face, falling into her eyes and snarling about her shoulders.

He was surprised to find, on closer inspection, that she was fine looking woman under all of the muck that coated her, maybe that dead Imperial was on to something. He was suddenly very curious about this woman.

"Why were you a prisoner?" Ulfric asked.

"Poaching." She answered shortly, not looking up.

"Surely that can't be it? To be sent to the block…" He pressed.

"Poaching." She said again. "… and killing a meddling Legionnaire."

He made an accepting sort of sound and went back to his silent observation of her and the cave they were in, when she spoke again.

"Would like to find the squad that captured me, they took my bow and my armour. I want them back." She mused and looked up at him, dumping a handful of vegetables in the pot and putting it over the flames of the fire to cook. "You're a Stormcloak, right? An Officer? Would you know how to find a particular legion squad, if you had their names and such?"

"I might, we have a good informant base." He replied. "I would need to be back to Windhelm to utilise them."

"Windhelm?… hmmm." She pursed her lips and stirred the pot absently "It's a goodly distance, have you no camps nearby?"

Ulfric narrowed his eyes and glared at her suspiciously. "No." He said shortly. There was a Stormcloak camp in these mountains but he was not about to reveal its location to some poacher.

"Hmmm… If I get you back to Windhelm, will you speak to someone for me?" She asked, her brow creasing at his sudden hostility.

"I can return to Windhelm alone." He asserted.

"Fine, you do that." She snapped, glaring down at her pot. "It's not like I didn't stick my neck out for you or anything. Ungrateful sod." She muttered the last under her breath. She looked back up at him, her eyes flashing again. "Listen, it might not seem important to you; high and mighty as you are, but that bow is my livelihood and the armour is my only protection. I have very little in this world and they mean a lot to me. I paid for them with my sweat and blood. Go back to Windhelm alone, that's fine, but could you please maybe find the men that took my possessions and let me know… I'll travel to Castle Dour itself to find them. I'll go to the Imperial City to get them back if I have to."

Ulfric regarded her in silence for a moment. She huffed at his silence and stabbed at the pot with the spoon again.

"How long have you been alone up here?"

She didn't answer, she just scowled at him.

"You seem to be a capable Nord, the Stormcloaks are always looking for true sons and daughters of Skyrim to join their ranks." He told her, leaning forwards.

"Right, and be a meat shield for Ulfric Stormcloak as he clambers his way to the throne." She snorted in derision. "No, thank you. I am content where I am."

Ulfric was affronted by her assessment of his campaign for Skyrims freedom, his glacial eyes sparking with a cold fire of their own.

"Ulfric Stormcloak fights for Skyrims independence from a weak empire that is slowly choking on the poison of the Thalmor oppression."

"Sure he does… from within the comfort and thick walls of the Palace of the Kings, while the 'sons and daughters of Skyrim' water the soil with their blood for him." She retorted bitterly.

Ulfrics left hand felt for and gripped the handle of the legion sword laying on the ground at his side, his ire rising at the insult to his honour.

"I lead my people with every fibre of myself. I would gladly take to every battlefield in this blasted war if I could. I am but one man however and cannot be on every front. I have a hold to keep, a citizenry to protect as well as this rebellion to conduct. When the time comes, I will raise my sword and do what must be done to free this land."

She had lost the look of contempt and was all but gaping at him in his heat. "You're Ulfric Stormcloak?" She choked incredulously and looked him over again, actually taking in the fine armour and heavy bearskin coat for the first time and rolling her eyes at her own idiocy. Of course, he was, and he wasn't safe behind the walls of Windhelm… he was in the field with his men, on the way to his execution no less. She was such a moron.

"You have my apologies, Jarl Ulfric." She said softly lowering her gaze docilely, not knowing what else to say. "My words were mere bravado sire, nothing more."

She set her eyes on the bubbling pot and would not look back at the Jarl across from her, seated in the dirt while she languished on her bedroll. She busied herself by rifling for her bowl and ladling spoonsful of hot soup into it. She crossed the distance between her and the now quiet, but still slightly seething, Jarl and handed the steaming bowl and spoon to him.

"It's not up to the standard of a palace kitchen, My Jarl, but it will fuel you for your journey." She said respectfully, her eyes still lowered.

He took the bowl and watched her slink hesitantly back to her seat across the fire, she lowered herself back onto her bedroll almost guiltily. He tasted a spoonful of the soup and found it thick and hearty. He began to eat in earnest before noting that she did not eat, she just watched him through her lowered lashes and curtains of clumpy hair.

"Will you not need to fuel yourself as well?" He asked, magnanimously disregarding their little conflict.

She shrugged, her eyes still respectfully downcast.

"This is your only bowl isn't it… and spoon." He grimaced as he looked down at the bowl in concern.

"No matter, my Jarl. I will eat after you have had your fill."

He could not see it through the dirt, but he knew she was blushing. He did not want to embarrass her further so he ate his soup in silence, trying to ignore her eyes following all of his movements. She took the bowl from him when he was done and handed him half a loaf of bread as she refilled it for herself, eating quickly and cleaning up with practiced ease. She stowed her things, added a log to the fire and left the cave without a word.

Ulfric guessed she had gone to relieve herself, he would have to do so himself very soon. He flexed the fingers in his right arm, the bone was knitting well, his shoulder was tight but no longer stung and his head was now clear of the hum and tone that accompanied a hard knock.

She came back into the cave and he stood up ready to take his leave.

"Watch your footing, my Jarl." She offered softly, "and mind your head on the ceiling."

He nodded and ducked outside, taking his time in the crisp, pine scented night to empty his bladder and think back to the events of the day. Monumental events.

When he wandered back to the concealed cave entrance, remembering to stoop at the last second, he found the woman curled up on the dirt floor of the cave, seemingly sleeping and her bed roll turned down, seemingly for his use. His brow furrowed into a deep frown. He was not about to allow a lady to sleep on the bare ground, especially when she had given so much already to see to his comfort, even before she knew he was the Jarl. He nudged her still form with the toe of his boot.

"Woman, take to your damned bed." He growled.

"You need to rest up, my Jarl" She spoke firmly, still curled on her side in the dirt. "It's a long way to Windhelm and there'll be snow before morning."

"I'm not taking your bed." He insisted.

"You're my noble guest." She insisted right back, curling herself into a tighter ball in the dusty floor and clenched her eyes shut.

He ground his jaw in frustration at the woman. "We'll share the bedroll." He said, before thinking it through.

Her eyes snapped open and she unfurled herself from her position in the dust. She was not an idiot, she knew he meant nothing by it but she couldn't let that slide.

"Sire, beside the fact that I am a woman alone and it would not be proper." She said evenly, "You are dressed in finery and I in rags. I would not wish to sully your elegant apparel. I will not be moved from this spot." She pointed at the ground for emphasis, before flopping back down to the ground, sending up a petulant puff of dust. She rolled over and turned her back to him.

He glared at her back, marched to the bedroll and threw himself down on it. He was asleep in minutes. It had been a trying day after all.

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He awoke and found the bowl sitting right before his eyes, filled with bread, cheese and an apple. A dented tankard sat beside it, steaming with a hot herbal tea of some kind. The woman was nowhere to be seen.

He sat up and picked the tankard up, he sniffed at it and then bought it cautiously to his lips. He hummed in appreciation at the pleasant earthy flavour and took a deeper draw from it before setting it aside, shuffling back and resting his back on the rock wall and hoeing into his breakfast. She returned to the cave as he had finished his apple and had consumed half of his cooling tea and he looked up at her in surprise. She had acquired a robe from somewhere and a sturdy pair of boots.

She plucked at the front of the robe. "Dead mage." She said by way of explanation for her attire, not saying if she had killed them or she had found them dead already. He guessed it didn't really matter.

"Are you a mage?" he asked, sipping at his tea.

She snorted and wrinkled her nose in distaste. "No, magic is for the weak."

"The enchantment on the cave entrance?" He asked, waving his hand vaguely.

"Not my doing." She said, setting down a bundle on the floor. "I found this place by accident. I'm guessing the twat that cast the enchantment did such a good job they couldn't find the cave again." She chuckled to herself. It was carefree sound. "Are you ready to go, my Jarl?" She enquired, taking note of the apple core in his hand, the empty bowl in his lap. "I want to be well into the Rift by nightfall."

"You want to…?" He tilted his head in question.

"Yes, I'm escorting you to Windhelm." She said matter of factly. "The Jarl shouldn't travel unescorted. I may not be the best bodyguard in Nairn, but someone should definitely watch your back, the wilds are not the city, my Jarl. And I have to leave Falkreath as well. It seems my head's for the block if I am caught again and I like my head where it is."

"Travelling together just seems logical and if we find a Stormcloak patrol on the way then… all the better, you'll be safe and I will still be out of Falkreath." She gave him an impish kind of grin and then began going through her meagre belongings.

"What's your name, woman." Ulfric asked her back. "I haven't thought to ask before now."

"Jaeger, my Jarl." She said softly, not looking up from her task. "Most name me Jae"

"Just Jaeger?" He pressed. "Do you not have a family name?"

"Death-Bringer." She whispered after a moment of hesitation. "My name is Jaeger Death-Bringer."

He cocked an eyebrow at her but said nothing as he came to his feet and then hunkered back down to secure the bedroll into a tight spool. It was a warriors name, not that of a lowly peasant who made their way by killing the holds game. He cast furtive glances at the woman as she gathered the supplies up and stuffed them into a tattered leather knapsack, no doubt pilfered from the body of the deceased mage whose robe she now donned. She was strong, He mused, though that could be from hard living in these mountains. She held a sword as if she knew how to wield it...

They were ready to leave in minutes, she did not have much to pack. She tucked a small iron dagger into one of her new boots and sequestered the Imperial sword into the folds of her robe and looked to the Jarl expectantly. He nodded after looking once more around their small haven and the two of them set out into the glaring morning sun.

The first day past quickly and without incident. Ulfric had to lament the fact that he was too accustomed to a Jarls life. He was not a young man anymore and the days of sitting at court made the start of the trip a chore on his lungs and limbs. Jaeger set a good pace, making sure not to overtax the Jarl. She moved with an understated grace, her steps light and near as silent in the crunching snow and skittering scree of the path that she picked for them to follow. She was most definitely a hunter.

By nightfall, they had made the foot hills of The Rift, just south of the sleepy hamlet of Iverstead. Jaeger then disappeared.

Ulfric looked about in him confusion and concern. She had been in front of him one moment and in the space of a heartbeat she was gone. He was not sure if he should remain where he was or continue on without her. He was indecisive in the gathering twilight, something a Jarl should never be. He decided, based on his indecision, that he would wait an hour and then continue on without her to find a suitable camp… surely as a hunter she could track him if she indeed intended to stay with him.

He needn't have worried, she was back before the hour was up. And she seemed to have acquired more supplies.

She put her finger to her lips and led him north east to what turned out to be another cave. She pushed him down in the undergrowth with a view of the entrance and slinked off into the darkness. He watched from his covered position as she skirted the clearing outside the cave entrance and he heard the reason for her stealth. The deep rumbling growl of a cave bear issued from within the cave. She let a pebble fly and skitter on the stony ground, leading the lumbering beast out to investigate. Ulfric was stunned when three arrows were loosed in quick succession sinking with sickening crunches into the face of the animal, causing it to crash harmlessly to the ground and slip gently on the sloping terrain back towards the cave entrance. She held up her hand to him to indicate that he should wait a while longer as she approached the cave on quick light feet and scouted for other threats before motioning him forwards and leading him into the caves sheltered interior.

"There was a Legion camp to the south." She said shortly, waving her new bow at him. "Didn't think you'd be interested in meeting up with them… and they owed me a bow."

"A weapon you seem more than proficient in." He rumbled in praise, taking a note to pass on the Imperials location to Galmar when he returned to his hold. The Rift was loyal to him, they did not belong here.

"Give me a bow and enough arrows, my Jarl, and I could win your war for you… quickly, quietly and from a safe distance." She boasted with a cocky grin, laying the Imperial style bow down and pulling a quiver of good quality steel tipped arrows from her shoulder and setting them down next to it. "I'm going to skin the beast outside and see if I can't find some fresh meat. Be at your ease, my Jarl." She said, stripping off the knapsack, robe and sword and disappearing out into the night in her thin rags with the bow in hand.

Ulfric took in the cavern around him, shrugged his shoulders and set about laying their campsite for the night. He pulled off his heavy fur lined coat, started a fire and made a start on sorting through their supplies to prepare the evening meal. He found himself enjoying the simple, menial tasks.

He looked up, sword in hand when he heard her re-enter the cave. She stopped dead when she saw him sitting cross legged on a rocky outcropping, obviously slicing vegetables with his sword until she had entered. She eyed the cheerily crackling fire, the laid out bedroll and the neatly stacked supplies.

"You need not bother yourself, my Jarl." She admonished him as she strode into the cave. "I will see to your care." She lay a brace of rabbits on the outcrop and made to take the vegetables from him.

"I will not be waited upon." He gritted. "A Jarl I may be, but I was a soldier first. I am very capable of setting camp."

"I didn't say you weren't capable," She retorted, "I merely meant you shouldn't have…"

"Enough woman, stop your coddling." He snapped, picking up one of the rabbits, already gutted and dressed and set about quartering it with his sword. He noted each little beast had been taken down with a solitary arrow to the eye. The woman was indeed very good.

He heard her huff in frustration and knew her mossy eyes would be flashing in their dangerous but quite beguiling way, but he ignored her, concentrating instead on his task with an air of victory.

He set the food on the fire to cook and sat back to watch her wander sulkily about the cave, plucking at mounds of mushrooms and relieving a beehive of its honeycomb, no doubt it would make an appearance at breakfast.

"You need to decide, my Jarl, on our path in the morrow." She said as she finally sat down on top of her discarded robe. Ulfric noted the swell and fall of her cleavage, exposed from the neckline of her ragged tunic as she sat and leaned towards him across the fire. He was still a man after all. "Will you want to travel through Iverstead? The path downhill is the fastest to reach Eastmarch, though we will need to pass through Whiterun hold briefly and they are still neutral in the war and Imperials march freely along the roads." She tilted her head to the side. "Or we could travel east along the southern bank of Lake Geir to meet the road north past the watchtower… it will take us through Darkwater Crossing. Your last trip there was not… good... I understand." She watched him intently.

"You seem familiar with The Rift." He acknowledged softly.

"Falkreath ain't the only hold with plentiful game." She replied a little defensively. The Rift was a hold loyal to Ulfric after all and he might think she was poaching from him in some way. "I have no real ties anywhere. I wander a lot down here in the south."

Ulfric accepted it without further questions and pondered a moment.

"We'll go through Darkwater. I don't wish to pass through Whiterun at this time… not yet." He spoke decisively.

She shrugged in response, "It won't take any more time and the land here is flat enough to move quickly, unlike coming down from the range. You'll be in your own hold by the next nightfall, my Jarl." She gave a quick smile, a genuine smile and Ulfric noted, not for the first time, that she was quite pretty under the dirt that coated her.

After a long period of silence, Ulfric felt her mossy green eyes on him. He looked up to meet them and she stood up abruptly, walking around the fire and hunkering down next to him.

"I should check your wounds." She said, her voice almost challenging. She didn't wait for a response from the Jarl, who knew very well that he was mended completely. He also didn't stop her as she felt along the bone of his forearm and pressed at his shoulder carefully. He inhaled deeply as she ran her fingers into his hair and felt at the healed scar on the back of his skull. To her it would have sounded like an impatient sigh. It wasn't, he found the attentions very pleasant.

She humfphed softly, finding nothing to worry about and he waited in surprised silence as she suddenly began to re-braid his hair. She did so slowly, making sure each strand of wheat coloured hair was in its proper place. She did one side and then shuffled to the other, the Jarl sitting very still under her ministrations. When she was done, she tucked a few stray locks behind his ear, regarded him with pursed lips, placed her hand on his shoulder and hoisted herself to her feet, returning to her spot across the fire. He felt quite bereft by her sudden departure.

They ate in companionable silence that night and Jaeger once again refused to make use of her bedroll, sleeping instead on the purloined robe and curled up into a ball by the dwindling flames of their fire.

The morning dawned clear and bright and they packed away their stores quickly and efficiently. They ate the last of their bread with honey and snowberries gathered on their descent from the mountains and set off. Jaeger was laden down with the knapsack, bedroll and the bearskin. She carried her sword, bow and quiver and her robe, happy in her light rags in the more temperate climate of The Rift. Ulfric carried naught but the imperial sword tucked into his belt. He told her to hand over some of the supplies and she pointedly ignored him, trooping out of the cave and turning resolutely east as if she carried no burdens at all.

He grumbled about it for some time as they walked along the shores of the lake. He was not some milk drinker who couldn't tout his own baggage, let alone allow some woman to carry all, while he languished with none but his own person to transport. She was taking this whole 'Jarl' thing a little too seriously and he felt quite sullen about it.

The morning passed quickly and Jaeger kept to her word, moving rapidly through the landscape. She bought down two pheasant who burst from the undergrowth at their passage. Once securing them to her pack, the Jarl and the poacher started their descent into Eastmarch Hold… and right into the path of a four man Legion patrol leading a bound Stormcloak soldier in a ratty tunic and a ragged pair of short trousers.

Their leader blinked at them in surprise; his eyes falling on Ulfric Stormcloak, recognising him instantly and reaching for his sword.

Jaegers hands flickered at speed, reaching for and loosing an arrow faster than anyone could follow. The lead Legionnaire fell with the shaft protruding from his throat and bright red blood gushing from the wound as the dying man clutched uselessly at the fletching in disbelief. Two charged in reaction, swords drawn, towards the pair and the third hung back drawing his own bow from his back. The bound Stormcloak soldier shoulder charged the archer, knocking him off his feet but not before an arrow sailed across the space, embedding itself in Jaegers thigh.

Her second arrow already notched before she was struck, flew on its correct path, removing one of the charging Legionaries from the fight and Ulfric stepped in front of her to face the two remaining foes, his legion sword in hand and flashing in the afternoon sun, sending sprays of blood, glistening into the air. A soldier first, he had said and true to his word he dispatched both the enemy swordsman and the archer in short order.

He glanced first at the Stormcloak soldier and, seeing him climb awkwardly to his feet, still bound but unharmed, he turned quickly to Jaeger, who was sitting on the road spewing curses and cradling her leg.

"Fucking Imperial Dog." She cried angrily, as Ulfric knelt at her side.

"Hush Jae, let me see." He ordered, pulling her hands away from the shaft sticking out of her upper thigh.

He ripped the already torn and tattered trouser leg back from the wound. It was dug in deep and wedged up against the bone. He'd need to cut it out.

The Stormcloak prisoner came to his knees on Jaegers other side, he had cut his bindings with a sword from the fallen and was looking at the woman with concern etched all over his young face.

"I sought to divert the arrow." He said urgently.

"He was more likely to hit the Jarl in Riften than he was me the way he was aiming, you skeever brained half-wit." She snapped through clenched teeth. "Your stupidity is what caused the arrow to hit a mark. Leave the fighting to your betters…"

"Enough, Jae." Ulfric admonished her gently.

Surprisingly, she clamped her lips shut but continued to glower. She was one of those who turned all of their pain and fear into rage. He'd served with her type before. He had seen it from her already in the cart to Helgen, in her fiery eyes. He looked at the stricken soldier, the young man mortified that he had caused harm in the Jarls presence, whether he actually had or not. "Soldier, start me a fire and check the bodies for potions."

The young man rushed away to do as he was bid and Ulfric captured the womans eye as she glared after him.

"It's against the bone, I'll need to dig it out." He said softly, his deep voice rumbling through the still air. "It will hurt, but I will work as quickly as I can."

He accepted the small bottle from the soldier who had come back, and handed off the small iron dagger from her boot to be heated over the flame of the small fire now crackling on the roadside. Ulfric undid his belt and pulled it tight around the top of Jaegers thigh, stemming the blood flow as much as he was able. He'd need to work fast now. Jaeger eyed him warily as he accepted the hot blade back from the soldier and sent him for water from the river cascading downhill nearby, following the roadway.

"Alright Jae?" He asked, dagger poised over the wound. She nodded shortly and watched him closely, not even flinching as the hot blade sliced into her flesh. Ulfric followed the shaft downwards, felt the solid clunk as he struck the steel tip and carefully extracted the arrow from the now gaping wound. She grunted once as the arrow was withdrawn but otherwise made no sound other than the slight pant in her breathing. Ulfric loosened his belt and moved it to cover the gash, pulling it tight until the potion could do its work in binding the flesh together again. He looked up into her eyes which were blazing with pale fire, a tear had escaped and rolled slowly down her cheek.

The soldier returned with a legion helmet full of cold water.

"What's your name soldier?" Ulfric asked the young man, taking the water and starting to clean away the blood from Jaegers leg.

"Garek Smooth-Seas, my Jarl." He replied smartly.

"Garek, look over those bodies, see if you can't find the lady something in her size or close to it." Ulfric ordered.

"I won't wear it." She railed, clutching the now empty potion bottle to her. "I'd rather die that wear that cursed armour."

"If we're going to continue, you'll don some armour, woman." He growled.

"I Will Not Wear It" She proclaimed, voice hard.

"You will. I order you to."

"You can order all you want, I'm not one of your THRICE DAMNED SOLDIERS. I will not let that imperial refuse touch me." She set her jaw obstinately and glared at the Jarl.

For his part, Garek stood open mouthed and watched the exchange. Who dared speak to Jarl Ulfric thusly?

"You can't wear your… rags… anymore, they're for the fire."

"I'll wear my robe then."

"Grrroaa" Ulfric near roared in frustration at the woman. He stood up, grabbed Garek by the arm and hauled him out of earshot of the injured woman. He spoke quickly and forcefully to the wide eyed boy, who mumbled quick replies and pointed in what looked to be every direction, his arms flaying around in a near panic. He eventually nodded and began running up the road they had come down and disappeared from view. Ulfric turned back to Jaeger and growled again as she was not where he had left her. She was instead rifling around the body of one of the dead Legionnaires.

"What are you doing?" He gritted.

"He didn't loot them very well. Don't your officers teach your soldiers anything?" She criticised spitefully, holding up a fistful of arrows, bread, a purse of septims and other sundry items. "Dagger's better too." She muttered, slipping a well forged steel dagger into her boot to replace the small iron one that still lay bloodied on the roadside where Ulfric had left it.

'I swear to Talos, woman, the block would have been better than travelling with you." He groused, filling her knapsack with looted goods and stuffing the quiver full of arrows. He tossed the robe at her and turned his back while she shimmed out of her rages and pulled it over her head.

"Where did you send the idiot boy?" She asked, adjusting the robe and tying it off with the rope belt at the waist.

"None of your concern." He snapped, securing the last of their supplies to his back and sweeping the surprised woman off her feet.

"What in Oblivion do you think you're doing?" She protested loudly.

He ignored her, kicked out the little fire and strode on down the hill, following the road. There was still plenty of daylight left to reach the cave Garek had told him about. Another cave, Ulfric thought with a sigh blocking out the noisy complaints of the woman in his arms. He had hoped to be well into Eastmarch, not teetering on the border like he was but there was nothing for it. They could not move forwards until she could walk properly.

He reached the cave entrance not long before the sun dipped too low to be of any good to him. If it had been twilight, he would never have found the entrance, a thin rabbit trail leading off the road and small irregular opening in between the thatches of thick shrubbery. He set his grumbling burden down and eased into the cave, his sword drawn, scouting for potential threats but nothing leapt out at him. He retrieved his griping companion and bought her inside, dropping her carefully to the loamy floor before removing all of the pairs shared supplies from his back.

"Shut up, Jae." He muttered absently, as he cleared a space for the fire and began to set up their camp. He was tired and couldn't listen to her anymore. He was actually surprised when she clamped her lips shut and uttered nothing more.

He threw the twin pheasants at her to pluck and dress, grunting in satisfaction when he saw a flurry of down flying into the air around her as she resentfully obeyed and he quickly cut up some carrots and potatoes to serve with them, thanking the downed legionnaires for their replenished stores. When everything was on to cook, he came to Jaeger to check her wound. He removed his belt and ran a calloused finger over the jagged cut, it was healing well and with another dose of potion and no walking in the meantime, she would be good enough by morning.

By the time they had finished eating Jaeger was nodding over her empty bowl sleepily. Ulfric huffed in amusement as he watched her battle with impending unconsciousness. He came over to her side of the fire and lifted her easily, depositing her on the bedroll and covering her up. He took a seat on the floor next to her and watched her for a few minutes, absently brushing the dirty clumps of hair back from her face.

For all her angry yapping on the walk to the cave, she had fastened her arms around his neck and held herself close to his chest. Even as she threatened to thrash him soundly for his misdeeds, real or imagined, her hot breath had ghosted against his neck as she was nestled so close.

The skin of her thigh was pale as ivory and completely unblemished around the raw arrow wound. Ulfric drew his mind back from such thoughts, he pulled his fur coat tighter around him and closed his eyes.

\--------------------------------------- *~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~* --------------------------------------

He awoke with a mean crink in his neck and one absent woman.

He sighed and rubbed at his neck. He saw down at his side, the bowl filled with sliced bread, cheese, apples and left over honeycomb. Her bow and quiver were gone and the empty potion bottle lay on its side by the fire. She had managed to get half of it down the previous night, before she had succumbed to sleep and had obviously knocked back the rest before she had retired from the cave.

She came bustling back into the cave while he was rolling up the bedroll, her eyes bright and her arms full of gleaming salmon.

"I was going to hunt…" she said breathlessly, "but these, they just jumped out of the water... right at me, like they wanted to be eaten."

Ulfric chuckled at her enthusiasm, she had never seen salmon run upstream for spawning before?

"I'll grill the steaks for supper and I can smoke the rest overnight." She mused happily. "Are you alright?" She asked suddenly looking at him in concern.

"Of course." He replied, confused at her alarm.

"No, you're not." She disagreed, setting down her fish and coming to his side and squatting down. "You're not moving right, are you hurt? Did one of the legion…"

"No woman, stop fussing, it's just a stiff neck." He began to tie up the tightly spooled bedroll when he felt her warm hands begin to firmly massage the back of his neck, worming her fingers into the fold of his heavy coat. He stopped what he was doing and sat back on his heels, leaning into her attentions with a soft groan. She pushed his wheat coloured hair aside and eased his coat from his shoulders, to the top of his cuirass, so she had better access to his aching muscles and tendons, digging her fingertips into the rippling flesh more seriously than before. The tight pain subsided and the pressure of her drilling fingers eased to a soft circling motion, her deft hands smoothing over his skin in a way he found… appealing.

"Better, my Jarl?" She asked softly, her lips closer to his ear than he anticipated, her warm breath ghosting past his lobe.

"Yes, much, thank you." He replied, a tad bit disappointed when he felt her draw away from him and retreat to the opposite side of the cave. His skin suddenly cold at the loss of contact. He hitched his coat back up onto his shoulders.

They proceeded with their morning and were soon on the road again, she was as laden down as she had been before being punctured and she walked with a slight limp, but nothing that wouldn't work itself out by the end of the day. She still steadfastly refused to allow him to carry anything.

As they approached the edge of Darkwater Crossing, the Jarl held her back.

"Skirt the town, we'll walk across the geothermal fields instead of following the road." He said shortly, offering no explanation for his strategy as he led the way through the trees.

Jaeger frowned but complied, he was a Jarl after all and he no doubt had his reasons. Maybe he was nervous that the empire still had spies or soldiers in the settlement. She was not sure why he would avoid the roads in his own hold though. They picked their way through the woods and out into the wide open spaces of the Eastmarch geothermal fields, the ground was stark and almost lifeless but strangely beautiful. Jaeger wrinkled her nose.

"It smells weird." She said sniffing the air in distaste.

"Sulphur." Ulfric replied shortly, striding out into the plain. "There are fires and gases right under the surface of the earth. Heats the water."

"The water's hot?" She asked looking hard at a pool nearby, watching tendrils of steam rise from its mirrored surface.

"Hmmm." Ulfric hummed absently, stepping around the old bleached skeleton of some long dead beast.

"Can you bathe in it?" She asked quietly, her voice a little wistful.

"Some of the pools are good to bathe in, some not, too much sulphur or too much heat." He said looking over at her. She was gazing at one of the closest pool with undisguised longing on her face. The look was quite moving… quite distracting.

"How can you tell which are good?" She breathed, her eyes dreamy.

"You want a bath." He stated bluntly, stopping in his tracks and staring at her.

"Of course I do… I've looked like this since the day we met, you think I'm happy about that?" She snapped peevishly. "The damned imperials dumped their slops on my head, thought it was huge joke… bastards… I have been aware that I offend your delicate, Jarlish sensibilities with my current state. I'd think you'd want me to bathe too."

He had made no great show that her filthy state was offensive and he felt bad that she had known anyway and that it was not by her own choice that her skin was caked with muck and her hair clumped with what he now knew was rotting food and such. He sighed and looked around them getting his bearings.

"To the west… there's a pool to the west were most people take their respite." He murmured, "A few others as well that are more private. I doubt the local hunters would enjoy relaxing while being enveloped with the cloud of filth that would inevitably float off of you. We'll find you your bath."

He turned west and north, striding ahead and staring thoughtfully at each pool that they passed. They came upon the hunters camp but didn't stop there, turning north proper until Ulfric found a good sized pool that didn't reek of sulphur nor did it seem to boil. It was isolated and quiet and was ringed with dragon tongue flowers. He tested the water and stood up wiping his dripping fingers on his trouser leg.

"Your bath, my lady." He said with a half mocking bow and a small smile.

She snorted at him and looked at the water longingly, and then looked back up at him a little impatiently.

"Well?" She said.

"Well what, woman?"

"Well, are you going to go away so I can bathe? I have no small clothes and I'm not about to get bare with you lurking over me."

She had no small clothes… She was travelling the wilds of Skyrim in naught but a thin robe to cover her. That was more alluring than it should have been. Ulfrics eyes involuntarily wandered down the womans body and flicked back up to her face. She pretended not to notice but rather placed her hand awkwardly on her hip and frowned at him. He turned his back on her but stood resolutely at the pools edge.

"Are you going?" She queried huffily.

"No, I won't look. Just take your bath and I will keep watch." He grumbled, staring hard at a rock in the distance.

Behind him there was no sound or movement for a full minute or so. Then he heard the tantalising whisper of fabric rustling against skin as the robe was removed from her body. He heard the tentative splash of a toe testing the waters heat and then the sloshing waves of her entering the hot pool in earnest. He heard a contented sigh that was on the verge of obscene as she sank into the water with the ecstasy of profound relief.

Ulfric was not a young man, he was nearing his forty seventh birthday. He was a seasoned veteran of the Great War, the Bear of Markarth. He was the leader of a revolution, the Jarl of Windhelm and the future high king of Skyrim. He was not some horny, prepubescent boy and yet, in the wake of the sounds the naked poacher behind him was making, he felt his trousers becoming uncomfortably tight in the crotch region. In his minds eye, he could see a naked Jaeger waist deep in steaming water, running her hands over every luscious curve that she possessed. He remembered the soft swell and hollow of her cleavage that he had glimpsed briefly in the cave and his imagination filled in the rest. He tried to push the images from his head, but they came back with more stunning clarity with every splash, every sigh and gods forbid, every blissful moan that she made and she was a noisy bather. Ulfric sent a prayer to Talos to give him strength.

After what seemed an eternity of aural torture, Ulfric heard the words he had been silently praying for and turned back towards the pool. The fact that the words were spoken in a dreamy sigh did not register, all he heard was "I'm done"

Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelms eyes popped wide open.

By the Divines…

Dibella, the goddess of beauty herself had appeared before him. His imagination it seemed, was sorely lacking.

Slick and glistening with moisture, nude and thoroughly clean, Jaeger Death-Bringer was a sight to behold. Though her body was liberally peppered with scars both old and new and it was obvious which parts of her saw the sun and which did not, everything was toned and rounded to perfection. Not as if sculpted... no… no artists hand was that steady nor talented as to capture such divinity. Her sopping hair, now free of sludge, hung heavily over one shoulder covering one of her pert, round breasts. In the afternoon light the tresses were dark gold, tinged with a pinkish copper, it was also much longer than he had originally thought. She was indeed hip deep in the steaming pool. Her waist was small, the flair of her hips just visible over the steaming waterline. The belly was taut with muscle, her navel sunken in the rippling flesh, her ribs laddered up to her small but perfect breasts, tipped with dusky nipples, flat and wide in the heat. Her collarbones jutted in sharp relief and paved the way up her long delicate neck. And her face… The muck was gone, her lips glistened in the golden afternoon sun as if exuding their own light, her cheeks were flushed with warmth and her unearthly eyes sparkled like rare jewels.

As if under the influence of *Tiid-Klo-Ul*, Ulfric was able to scan her body from the top of her beautiful head down to where her gorgeous body was submerged in the water and back up again… taking in all of the essential stops along the way, burning each detail into his retinas and filing them away in his memory for further inspection at a later date.

She was a vision.

A vision who was gaping at him in shock.

A vision who was raising her defined and shapely arms to cover those mouth watering breasts.

Ulfric somehow recovered the ability to breathe again just as the poacher ducked herself under the water with an outraged squeal, breaking the spell. The Jarl blinked in astonishment, gulped in breath, swallowed sharply and twirled away from the pool again.

"I thought you said you were done?" He gasped haplessly, trying desperately to dispel the burned in image of her naked flesh from his brain.

"I was done washing… not out of the water and dressed… why did you… just… stand there?" She screeched. Her voice taking on a decidedly fishwife tone, rising by the octave with every word. There was a lot of splashing, followed by a great deal of swearing.

Ulfric let out a strangled kind of sound but could not reply. He couldn't have looked away if he had tried… that damned Dragon could have been doing a Argonian fan dance nearby and Ulfric would not have even glanced at it. He could not look at her again and not see what he had just seen. He took a deep shaky breath, closed his eyes and prayed to Talos yet again… this time for her to hurry up and dress and for the painful rigidity in his pants to subside.

He opened his eyes again as he felt her breeze past him in a huff. She was once again dressed in her robe though it was stained dark with wetness, betraying its hasty adornment. Her footsteps hard and purposeful, her back as inflexible as a steel pole. She was really angry.

He started after her, his hand outstretched as if to clasp her arm and halt her departure when she spun to face him suddenly. He stepped back from her with a jolt, bracing himself and expecting a well deserved blow. He was somewhat stunned when he felt not a cold hard fist but rather, a pair of warm soft lips collided forcefully against his.

His soldiers reactions abandoned him in that moment and he was frozen. His glacial eyes wide in surprise and his lips in a pursed rictus. Jaeger drew back from him sharply at his non-response to her kiss. Her fingers unfurled from where she had clasped the front of his cuirass and she stumbled away from his rigid body, her face the picture of profound mortification.

She went to turn from him again, her face flaming crimson, when his instincts kicked back into action, which was lucky as his brain had yet to start ticking over again. His large hands clamped down on her shoulders and hauled her back towards him, spinning her as he did so. His head descended, his lips crashed back into hers and all brain activity ceased completely. His loins took over all of the thinking.

His arms wrapped themselves around her waist and gathered her in close, constricting around her like serpents and pressing her stunning form against him. She uttered a throaty groan and in turn wrapped her arms around his neck, tugging him closer though, in reality, there was no space between them thus. As her nimble fingers tangled themselves into his hair, his hands began to wander over the curves of her back, glorying in the feel of her muscles glide and tense under his fingers as she massaged his scalp and moved down to his shoulders. She tasted of sunlight and loam and mountain air and tree sap. She tasted of the wild.

He felt the weight of his heavy bearskin coat fall from his shoulders and vaguely heard it thud to the dusty ground. How he heard it over the surge of his blood through his veins was beyond him but he also heard his sword belt follow it with a clatter and clang. Her nimble fingers began working at the straps of his cuirass as their lips remained fused and tongues began to battle.

Ulfric fumbled with the damp fabric of her robe, hearing the seams tear as he pulled it down to expose her shoulder to the air and then swiftly covered the silky skin with his lips. She moaned like she had in the water and tugged hard on the leather strap of his armour making it spring free on one side. He frantically struggled to remove his armour and it clanged to the ground noisily followed swiftly by his rust-stained under tunic before their lips violently collided again.

Ulfric tore at her robe even as she deftly worked on the laces of his breeches. It fell from her body and floated down to the dusty ground, revealing that heavenly physique to the thermal fields and to Skyrim. Ulfric felt blessed to be able to touch and suddenly covetous, wanting it all for himself. He clutched at one of her finely formed breasts with a large calloused hand and marveled at its weight and softness. She had managed to free his hardness and roughly pushed his breeches to the ground. She wrapped an equally calloused, though much smaller hand around his length causing a feral sound to gather in Ulfrics throat. He wanted to taste of her, but his need to be buried in her softness was even greater. He lifted one of her long legs and wrapped it around his waist. With his thick fingers, he fumbled for the entrance to her quim, finding it slick with her welcoming juices. He pulled her close and with a minor adjustment in stance and little preamble, he thrust into her.

She gave a deep kind of whimper and wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders, her face buried in his neck. Ulfric took hold of one of the cheeks of her shapely bottom and hooked the other under her raised thigh and withdrew from her only to slam back in with a groan. Bliss. Again. Rapture. Again.

His desire burned through him as he set a fast and frenzied pace. His mouth sought hers and their tongues tangled again. Pressure built quickly and the two became more vocal in their gasps and moans. He became more forceful in his thrusts, more erratic in his rhythm until it all culminated in a rush of released pleasure so great that they lost their feet and tumbled down onto the hot, dry ground. Ulfric had the presence of mind to cushion the fall and rolled to the side so as not to crush or injure her.

They lay panting, on their sides in the dust, each deep and rapid intake of breath was soaked with sulphur and sweat. Ulfric opened his eyes slowly and locked them on Jaegers face. Her eyes were still closed, long dark blonde lashes brushing against her cheeks, pink from exertion. Her nostrils flared as she slowly regained her countenance and her lips were dark, kiss bruised and glistening. Her skin seemed to sparkle as the sun reflected off tiny beads of sweat that sprinkled her forehead and upper lip.

She was the most spectacular creature he had ever seen, she can't have been real. He'd been in her company for days and though he had appreciated that she was fair under the slops that had covered her... he'd had no idea, none at all that she was a Divine.

Jaeger rolled slowly to her back. She slowly opened her eyes and turned her head to meet his gaze. Her magnificent mossy globes sated and shimmering. She offered a small smile and sat up. Her back was dusted with soil. He had undone all of her bathing efforts. He could not help but smirk.

Jaeger reached for her robe, torn as it was, and pulled it over her head settling it around her and securing the rope at her waist. She stood and walked a tad bit gingerly to where her boots and their supplies lay. She didn't say anything as she hunkered down by them. Ulfric frowned.

He sat himself up and reached for his breeches which were still around his ankles and began to pull them up when he saw it.

Blood.

He paled.

He had blood smeared over his manhood. He looked up at Jaeger with dawning horror. He'd taken her maidenhead. He'd taken it ungently, standing up... in a wasteland.

He took to his feet and strode to her, crouching at her side and reaching for her shoulder.

"Jaeger..." He whispered. "Did I hurt you? Why didn't you say you were innocent?"

She turned her head to face him and smiled softly. "You didn't hurt me." was all she said.

Ulfric opened his mouth to speak again when he heard the faint jingling sound of chainmail. His head whipped around to scan the area and he made for the pile of his belongings, digging out his sword in a rush. He heard Jaeger stand behind him and he was sure that she had armed herself. The sound became louder and it became apparent as another noise joined, the heavy tread of several feet, marching in unison, that a patrol was approaching them. And sure enough a moment later a half dozen men and women in Stormcloak blue emerged from between two thatches of brambles. They all stopped and stared.

Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm was in naught but his unlaced breeches and boots, facing them with a stolen imperial sword.

The leader coughed uncomfortably and stepped forwards. "Jarl Ulfric." He greeted with a bow. "Galmar Stone-Fist had word from Garek Smooth-Seas in The Rift that you were enroute... we were sent as escort, My Jarl." 

Ulfric put up his sword and relaxed his posture. Their timing was not the best but he would be lying if he said that he was unhappy to see them, he turned to Jaeger and stopped cold when he encountered nothing but a calm hot pool and barren ground.

She was gone.

\--------------------------------------- *~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~* --------------------------------------

Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm and leader of the Stormcloak rebellion against the empire slumped further into his hard backed stone throne. Galmar was being disagreeable and Ulfric was frankly tired of listening to him.

She was still on his mind... months later she was still there, lingering on the edge of his thoughts and in the forefront of his dreams. If he were to be honest with himself he would admit that she was the reason for his current state of melancholy, not Galmars insistence that they need some crown to affirm his claim on Skyrims rulership. They'd known each other for only a handful of days, but she was indelibly scored into his skin.

He had not seen nor heard from her since the day his men had found them in the fields... after they had been together at the hot pool. She had simply melted into the shadows, gone as soon as his back was turned. And he had looked; He had sent out patrols, even hired a courier (and those buggers could find anyone, anywhere).

Nothing... Gone.

Galmar Stone-Fist knew all about her and pretended not to notice as Ulfric tried to concentrate on what he was saying but Jorleif, his aging steward, suddenly came bustling towards the dais, flushed and breathless.

"My Jarl." He gasped as he slid to a stop before the throne.

He took a moment to catch his breath and Galmar and Ulfric exchanged a concerned look. It was out of character for the steward to interrupt council, whatever had roused the man it must have been important. Ulfric straightened in his seat and leaned forwards, icy eyes intent.

"... My Jarl," Jorleif started again, his lungs still straining. "We've had word from the stables... the Dragonborn has entered the city."

Galmars eyes flew wide and he growled. "The Dragonborn?" He grated, his ragged voice like stone on steel. "What purpose..?" he asked.

Ulfric had heard the tales and was wary. The Dragonborn had first been seen and spoken of while in Whiterun in months past... Balgruuf and he did not see eye to eye and Whiteruns Jarl tended to lean towards imperial rule, though he had not stated it outright. He thought hard.

"It may be the Dragonborn seeks a truce." Ulfric rumbled absently. "For what is one trifling civil war in comparison to the end of the world by Dragon flame?"

Galmar grunted assent. "And will you sit down with the Thalmor?"

Ulfric frowned and then snorted. "I will do what must be done. Mayhap we may sway the Dragonborn to aid Skyrim after Alduin is eliminated... if that can even be done. If not, what difference will it make who sits on the high throne of a kingdom that no longer exists?"

He remembered well the pitch black Dragon with burning ruby eyes and a thundering voice of doom. He remembered the brimstone stench of Helgen aflame. He remembered the pale green eyes of Jaeger Death-Bringer. He'd met her that day.

The Jarl, the general and the steward all looked up at the sound of the great doors of the palace being thrown wide. The Dragonborn was here.

Three warriors appeared on the threshold; two towering men in the wolf armour of The Companions and a smaller woman... definitely a woman... swathed in black, an armour light in composition but all encompassing, it was like a belligerent shadow had entered his hall.

He recognised the men. The twins, Vilkas and Farkas were renowned around all of Skyrim and beyond. Vilkas, the fiery but cultured Master-at-Arms and Farkas, the quiet but unstoppable bludgeoning machine.

The woman was a mystery, obviously the rumor mill had failed to note that the Dragonborn was a woman. She moved with an easy grace, light footed and fluid. She also oozed a piqued tension.

A formidable looking black bow hung from her shoulder and a quiver of arrows tipped in ebony peeked from her back. A pair of black short swords hung from her hips, tapping against her armoured legs as she walked, they glowed with a cruel red aura that whispered of Daedra magic. The top of her covered head barely reached the shoulders of her comrades, though it seemed as if she were a hundred foot tall.

Ulfric wondered at her concealing garb though he had no time to ponder too deeply as the trio were before him.

The Companions bowed deeply to him. The Dragonborn remained straight backed, her spine rigid as steel and her eyes an enigma beneath the shadow of her cowled helmet, he merely saw a brief glint of light reflecting from them, nothing more.

Ulfric rose from his seat and stepped forwards.

"Windhelm welcomes the Dragonborn within her humble walls." He greeted her with an incline of his head. "and Eastmarch stands ready to assist you in your quest. You need only ask and we shall provide whatever you require."

"I thank you for your greeting," She replied softly, " and your offer of aid but what I require most is stability in Skyrim if I am to move about it freely." Her voice was low and muffled by the mask covering the lower portion of her face. "The Thalmor and their Imperial Legion have proven less than accommodating in this regard and so I have come to you, my Jarl."

She raised her head slightly and Ulfric saw a flash of green light in her eyes.

"I once said with a bow and enough arrows I could win your war for you. Quickly, quietly ..."

"... and from a safe distance..." Ulfric finished, his normally strong voice petering out as he gaped at the woman before him.

She raised her hands up and slowly drew the black helmet from her head, a long dark golden braid uncoiled and fell forward over her breastplate, the strands glinting with pinkish copper. A jagged scar now intersected her brow and gouged its way down onto her cheek on the left side, though her pale mossy eyes were the same and smoldered on with the familiar fire.

"Jae...?" He breathed.

**Author's Note:**

> OK, that one kind of got away on me. :)


End file.
